


High

by BrookeSutter



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Angst, Drug Use, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-24
Updated: 2015-04-24
Packaged: 2018-03-25 13:44:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3812686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BrookeSutter/pseuds/BrookeSutter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The downward spiral into a dark Bellarke Fanfic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Mount Weather was a malignant spot, festering until she was sure it would kill her. The archaic world in which she falsely assumed would shelter her every idealistic wave of artistic ingenuity failed her, offering no real treatment for the cancerous guilt that slowly, but surely, turned her once lively heart into the blackest of ash. She was not being melodramatic when she drunkenly claimed to absolutely no one that there was nothing left. Because without a doubt, there was nothing left of Clarke Griffin.

Nothing.

It started with the realization that her mother was having an affair with Marcus Kane, although she didn't know whether to call it an affair seeing as her mother was a widow--a black widow in Clarke's book, but still a widow. Someone, somewhere believed she had the right to move on, didn't they? That someone just wasn't Clarke. After years of marriage, Abigail Griffin turned in her husband, consequentially getting her daughter locked up. Of course, Clarke supposed Kane deserved some of the credit for her arrest seeing as he was the one who chose to press charges. All for the greater good, right? No harm, no foul. _Yeah._ Clarke wasn't seeing it that way quite yet. But, it gets far, far worse when, after holding her tongue for nearly three months, her mother announces that she is pregnant. _Pregnant._

_"Aren't you happy for us, Clarke? We're building a population!"_

_"Mom, I'm just so fucking ecstatic for you right now. I bet dad would be too, if he were here, you know?"_

From there, her whole life--whatever was left of her life--toppled over and she didn't have the energy, nor the will, to prop it up again. Things started getting out of control when Lexa returned, searched Clarke's face and said something along the lines of, _"You aren't the same person."_ Because she hadn't reached the personal-destruction part of her downward spiral yet, she reframed from the _"No shit, that's what happens when you have to commit genocide in order to save your people after your army leaves you."_ But then Lexa wanted to talk--not just talk, she wanted to have the talk about _them_ and how it wasn't personal. How Clarke had to understand that she did it for her people, that Clarke would have done the same thing in her shoes. And Clarke just stood there nodding because hell, they needed the grain. It was safe to say, the Commander wasn't making any visits these days.

But the Grounder, Echo, definitely made a few visits all in search of Clarke's former co-leader. Clarke wasn't jealous, let's get that clear. She was not jealous that Bellamy had casual sex with Echo. It put him in a good mood, she couldn't complain when he wasn't bellowing across the camp like a moron at eight in the morning. What made her bones turn to stone, what caught her breath, what tickled the ashes of her destroyed heart was the girlish laughter that flittered across camp when Octavia Blake, Raven Reyes, and Echo conversed with each other as if they' been through hell and back together. It didn't help that Octavia was still ignoring her every chance she got, making sly comments under her breath when she thought Clarke wasn't listening.

Her mother was the doctor--she wasn't needed in that department.

They weren't letting her make any political decisions any time soon, so she wasn't needed there.

Leadership and Healing were her two qualifications and she couldn't do either.

One thing after another told her that she was completely inadequate when it came to this whole living thing, one thing after another told her she should have never returned home.

Her, what she assumed, luck didn't turn up until she met Church. Just, Church. Clarke kind of liked the fact that he didn't have a surname or a beard like most of the grounder men. She kind of liked that he had a good sense of sarcastic humor and a little bit of an attitude. She kind of liked that he didn't call her Princess. He was handsome--all edges and angles with tan, calloused skin. The type of boy that made a girl's heart beat like a war drum--headed for destruction but too eager to notice. The fact that his first words to her were, "I don't know how the hell you deal with that Chancellor bitch of yours, seems like a real pain in the ass." He was smoking something, Clarke didn't even ask before she plucked it from his fingers and snorted before she took a drag, "Yeah, well, she's my mother."

Church smirked at that, "And I'm assuming the man isn't your father."

"I think I might of called him Uncle when I was little, but never daddy."

"I like you."

"I don't."

She took a long drag of what she decidedly called a joint before he replied, "I'm going to let you in on a little secret--" He took his joint back and wiggled it in front of her face, "--it's girls like you that run the world." He seemed pleased with the gasp that escaped her lips, "The broken ones, the ones without the bright eyed ambition, the ones that have seen real shit and don't like playing little political games like your mother in there." He stepped closer to her, "I like you...because you have the potential to run this entire operation and you don't give a fuck anymore."

"You don't know me."

"But I'm going to." He promised her before extinguishing his joint, walking back to the group of Grounder warriors that accompanied the supplies exchange. It was pretty much technology, education, and limited amounts of guns for furs, meats, and a different type of education. Clarke pointed out, only to herself because no one cared to listen, that they were highly unmatched by the grounders and needed to sweeten the pot so they could make it last. But who was she? Just a stupid kid in their eyes that suffered through a "horrible tragedy"--that's how everyone viewed her, everyone but Church.

There was something about him, so captivating that it was ridiculous and deep down--she knew it was too good to be true. Deep, deep down she knew she craved attention and she liked Church because he was giving it to her.

But at the time, he'd gotten her too high to even care.

 

 

 

 

 


	2. This Time Around

Presently, she was sitting cross-legged around the fire--laughing, talking, giggling, swearing just a little too loud for 7:00 PM. The only person she laughed at, with, was Church. Church and his stupid commentary on the "downright nasty" attitudes her people adopted toward his group of men that accompanied him during trade. Naturally, she'd gotten a few side-glances when he randomly showed up with a devilish grin on his face, demanding to see the "bitchin' blonde"--he rarely called her by her name, and that was okay because at least he called her, right? His eyes didn't fall to his feet when he spoke to her as if her tainted soul was contagious. He didn't look sad, hurt, or pathetic when he asked her if she was okay because usually he was asking how high she was, if she wanted more, if he needed to cut her off for the night. When he talked to her, he just talked to her and disregarded her pain and her past and anything that went too deep.

She never cried in front of him--never felt the need to cry in front of him.

"You want another hit or are you good?" He was shirtless, blowing _O_ 's as if he were testing whether he could outdo the fire's smoke or not. Clarke's vision was so blurry, she didn't know if he was winning or not. Her mouth was dry, unnaturally so and she wanted to complain on the subject but it felt stupid. "You know that saying, the one about silence being louder than words...it doesn't apply here."

"I'm good." Clarke whispered before she closed her eyes, "Church?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me another story."

He chuckled, "How about you tell me a story?"

"What kind of story?" She nearly slurred when she rocked her body to the side, moving so far right that she almost fell over. Her blonde hair tumbled over her shoulders as she shook her head and sat up straight before slouching again. He didn't respond to her, so she came up with her own response. "I was about two hundred miles south of here after maybe a month of walking, stopping in random villages and such...and it struck me, I don't know where to go with my life." Her story wasn't really funny but she laughed anyway, "And, I don't know, I was walking around aimlessly until I came across this cliff. I guess I just started thinking, _what happens if I just jump?_ Like, ended it all right then and there and drowned. Then, I remembered the last time I was in that position. I was running for my life...because I needed to save my friends. I needed to save my friends and make sure Jasper and Monty had the chance to blow something up again." Another laugh that didn't really belong. "My whole focus--whole goal--since I landed on Earth was to make sure we all survived. We. Not just me. And for the first time in my life, it was just me. Me and a cliff. Me with another big decision...and sometimes, I feel like I still haven't made it off that cliff."

Clarke glanced over in the direction of Church and frowned. He was asleep.

She picked at the random bits of grass on the ground before she laid back, crossing her arms over her stomach and looked at the chemically altered vision above her. The bright twinkle of stars and morbid vastness of the universe made her heart lighter-- _you're just one person. You don't even matter in the scheme of things._

It wasn't until her body was jostled awake that she felt the effect of her increasing drug habit. "Oh _god..._ " She groaned as she slammed the heels of her palms into her eyes. The torches were too bright, flickering by as someone carried her away from the place she decided to sleep. Her head was throbbing, but she managed a "Put me down." before she even opened her eyes again. "Bellamy?" Her raspy voice annoyed her.

"Expecting your dick of a boyfriend? Sorry to inform you, but he left."  She was used to it and really, it was no big deal. He had a village to get back to. Honestly, Bellamy seemed more upset than she'd ever been. "What's the matter with you?"

"Your voice is fucking annoying, that's what the matter with you--me--not you, god!" Clarke struggled, "Can you just put me down? That'd be fantastic." He huffed before he let her feet hit the ground. She stumbled a little, bringing her hands to her face. She felt like her entire world was spinning. It was usually like this but she rarely moved when she was this far gone.

"Does he get you drunk or something? Have you been drinking?" He grabbed her arm to keep her upright and she was tempted to slap him. He smelt her breath and furrowed his brows, "Are you stoned?"

Clarke jerked away from him, almost falling on her face in the process. "It's really none of your business."

It took him a full minute to respond to her, "You're a bitch, you know that? Your mom's having another child and you're acting like it's the end of the fucking world. Get over your self. Getting high with a low-life like that guy, fucking him..." He clenched his jaw and forced her to look at him, "If you've got such a damn problem, leave again. You seem to be good at it!"

"You think I'm throwing a fit because I don't want a sibling? Get your head out of your ass! Stop projecting your issues onto me. Wasn't it you who said your life ended the day Octavia was born? You're the fucking bitch!" Clarke laughed at him, "You're right, though...I am pretty good at leaving, so I'm just going to leave you here and go to my bed before this turns into a fight you don't know how to finish."

She turned on her heel and he released a loud sigh before grabbing her arm again, "It doesn't have to be him to make you feel better...you don't need his drugs." Bellamy's eyes turned dark, "You can't trust him...you can't trust him to take care of you, to always make sure you're taken care of first..."

"And I can trust who? You?" Clarke snorted, "I think you and I stopped trusting each other the day I came back, Bellamy and you realized I couldn't be that girl anymore."

"I trust you with everything I have, Clarke."

In the morning, she would convince herself the entire conversation was a figment in her imagination.

 

 


End file.
